


breaking curses

by bitterheart



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Animal Genitalia, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Interspecies Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:35:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26876791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitterheart/pseuds/bitterheart
Summary: "Have you heard the tale of Blaiddyd Castle?" she asks him, her lips stained red and her grin wide. "Have you heard about the beast that haunts it? Now… what was it you always called him? The Boar Prince?"Felix feels his blood run cold.Dimitri is cursed and Felix is going to do something about it.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 3
Kudos: 73





	breaking curses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sumaru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumaru/gifts).



> This fic was just a convoluted excuse to write about Dimitri's corkscrew dick.

Before the curse, the prince is already a broken little thing, not that anyone truly notices. A cathedral full of broken shards of stained glass is still elegant if no one looks too close. 

Prince Dimitri has spent the first eighteen years of his life keeping people at a polite distance, lest they look too closely. He is alone by the time the witch gets her hands on him. No matter, when it means that he's easier to toy with. It would be quicker to kill him, but nowhere near as entertaining. His mind gives her magic no resistance and she pries it open, reading through his memories like a faded old picture book where only half the pictures make any sense at all. It doesn't give her much but it's enough to know how best to torture him.

When she speaks, her words are weighted with meaning, and with magic. 

"I curse you, Prince Dimitri," Cornelia whispers into his ear, her arm winding around his shoulder to hold him close. "I curse you to spend the next five years of your life as the monster those you love have always seen you to be. Five years, and not a single day longer. Not unless someone learns to love a pathetic creature like you." 

The castle is already empty and she is elbow deep in its blood. It's enough to draw the magical array she needs around its border, keeping him inside and keeping everyone else out. 

Cornelia doesn't even need to spread the news of his death, when the magically sealed castle is enough. 

For years, the people of the nearby town hear the baleful roars of a wicked beast, and tell each other that surely, not a single person could have survived.  
  
  
  
  
  
Felix is twenty three when he slays his first witch.

He never intended to be a witch hunter. His life had been planned differently and he's not entirely sure he was made out for the role that was intended for him, advisor to a boar prince who pretended Felix wouldn't notice how broken he was. Still, he knows that he's not made out for this either. He's good at fighting and decent enough at tracking and perhaps less than stellar at coaxing information out of paranoid locals, but it's managed to get him this far. There's a witch dying at his feet and he swings his sword to the side, shaking off the blood and magic clinging to its blade as he looks down at her. 

The witches that Felix grew up knowing were kinder, happy with their own magic and their own lives. Cornelia is nothing like that. There's nothing kind about her and even in her dying throes, she manages to conjure up a wicked smile for him, grabbing him by the leg and pulling until he's crouching over her, blade ready to kill her quicker. 

"Have you heard the tale of Blaiddyd Castle?" she asks him, her lips stained red and her grin wide. "Have you heard about the beast that haunts it? Now… what was it you always called him? The Boar Prince?" 

Felix feels his blood run cold. He knows he should ask for more information, to demand the truth from her when she's spent her life spinning nothing but misery and lies. Instead, he can do nothing but watch as she grabs his sword, burying it in her own chest without another word. 

He watches her die and slowly rises to his feet, pulling his blade free. 

There's thunder rumbling in the clouds overhead. The smell of ozone that comes with a storm. 

"Fuck," Felix mutters to himself, and it has nothing to do with the way the skies open above him, drenching him to the bone.

Blaiddyd Castle is a five day ride west of here. It's been four and a half years since the royal family was betrayed by their court witch. Four and a half years since Felix has been anywhere that even gives him a glimpse of the castle's spires on the horizon. 

His blood pounds in his ears as the thunder rumbles once again.

" _Fuck_."  
  
  
  
  
  
Blaiddyd Castle towers over Felix once he finally reaches it, looking every part the haunted place of nightmares the local townsfolk believe it to be. They’ve warned him he won’t be able to get anywhere near the castle, that the wards will turn him around and spit him out somewhere two towns away from here. 

There are no wards in place here. Instead, the air is thick with the burnt stench of a broken spell. Cornelia’s magic. The wrought iron gate creaks open when Felix pushes and he slips through, following the paved path that leads to the entrance.

It looks nothing like the place he once knew, where he spent the better parts of his summer as a boy. He recognises its shape but it feels much the same as seeing an old friend only to find them warped by age. 

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Felix pushes the double doors open and wonders if a monster truly does haunt this castle, and whether finding it will feel the same. 

Inside, the air isn’t as stagnant as Felix expects. It’s quiet enough that he can hear the faint crackle of a fire. A sign of life.

 _Dimitri_ , he tries to say only for the name to stick in his throat and threaten to choke him with the sheer depth of emotion he’s refused to process for the past few years. He coughs quietly and clears his throat, desperately trying to think of what he should say.

He grips the hilt of his sword tightly, for comfort more than for any other purpose, and follows the sound of the fire. He has a vague recollection of the castle’s layout as he crosses the main entrance and then down a hall, on the way to one of the castle’s many sitting rooms. He keeps his tread light, still unsure of what he’s going to find. 

He hasn’t even reached the sitting room when he senses something behind him. Felix goes still, ready to draw his sword.

The creature behind him growls, low and dangerous. “Leave.”

Felix doesn’t waste his time on words, already spinning to face it, sword drawn. It’s only his years of training that keep him from faltering at the sight he is met with: the creature is part man but mostly boar, standing upright on two legs with wicked tusks curving towards Felix. The creature stares Felix down with just one bright blue eye and without warning, charges forward.

Catching the tusks against the blade of his sword, Felix grunts as he’s pushed back against the wall. The boar backs up, ready to charge again, but Felix grabs it by the tusks, holding it still. No, _him_.

“Dimitri.” He forces the name out this time, feeling the broken edges of it catch on his heart on the way out. 

The recognition sparks in the boar’s single eye. Felix’s heart sinks at the confirmation he didn’t want. 

“Felix.” It’s undoubtedly Dimitri’s voice this time. It’s been years since Felix has heard it but he recognises it, the same as he’d recognise his own heartbeat. He backs away from Felix, turning away. “You should leave.”

“Cornelia is dead,” Felix tells him. “Whatever curse she put on you, I’m here to break it.”

“You won’t,” Dimitri replies, already walking away. “Just leave, Felix.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Felix frowns at his retreating back. “Boar—”

He regrets it as soon as the word is out of his mouth. In an instant, Dimitri has him pinned against the wall, one tusk dangerously close to stabbing through his shoulder. He already knows this is his fault, even if he doesn’t know how. 

“There’s nothing for you here,” Dimitri tells him. “Leave.”  
  
  
  
  
  
Felix stays.

He isn’t used to staying in one place for so long, when he’s spent the past four years hunting and fighting a witch. He isn’t used to company either and he can only assume the same to be true of Dimitri, when he’s spent the past four and a half years trapped in this castle. 

For the first week, they barely see each other. It’s a large castle and Dimitri is determined to avoid him. Felix ventures back into the town and instead of taking his presence as a sign that the castle is no longer cursed, they eye him with suspicion. He doesn’t care, when they still take his money as he buys supplies for the castle. He stocks the kitchen with food he doesn’t know how to cook and clears the broken debris around the castle and invents new and interesting ways to swear as he stabs himself with a sewing needle while trying to mend the torn clothes he finds in what used to be Dimitri’s room. 

During the second week, Dimitri joins him in the sitting room, settling onto his side on the worn rug in the middle of the room and says, “I thought you would have given up on the sewing needle by now.”

“Sewing needles are just tiny, inconvenient daggers,” Felix replies, stabbing his thumb again. “I’ll master them yet.”

Dimitri snorts and says nothing for the rest of the afternoon but he doesn’t leave. It’s a start.  
  
  
  
  
  
The sound of Dimitri’s hooves on the marble floors of the castle echo throughout the empty building. Felix doesn’t know how it’s still in one piece. 

“Get back here,” he yells. “You’re taking a bath whether you like it or not.” 

He chases Dimitri through the halls, trapping him in one of the rooms at the back of the castle. He doesn’t expect Dimitri to crash through the door and run outside, and Dimitri clearly isn’t expecting the drop overhanging the lake on the castle’s property. 

Felix stands on the overhang, hands on his hips as he pants for breath. “Serves you right. I had buckets of warm water inside but this is what you get for running.”

Dimitri stands on his hind legs, wiping the long fur out of his face. He looks mostly man and only part boar these days, his body covered in fur that looks lighter around his head, falling about his broad shoulders like a mane. Felix has managed to successfully stitch together an eyepatch to cover Dimitri’s bad eye and Dimitri is either kind enough not to comment on how crooked it is, or he simply hasn’t noticed. Dimitri is tall and broadly built but the less boar he is, the more Felix can tell that he hasn’t eaten well for the past few years and it’s taken its toll on him. 

“This is the first time I’ve been outside,” Dimitri says softly, looking around himself in wonder. “I haven’t even seen the sky since…” 

Felix sighs as Dimitri trails off, then strips down to his underclothes before jumping into the water. “You can reminisce as you bathe.”  
  
  
  
  
  
Dimitri sleeps on the floor. Felix supposes it made sense, back when he was more of a beast than anything else. Now, he shifts in his sleep, trying and failing to get comfortable with nothing but a rug between his body and the unyielding marble. 

“Just sleep in the bed,” Felix snaps at him one night. 

Dimitri has taken to sleeping on the floor beside Felix’s bed. Felix is tired and cranky and it’s for those reasons that he doesn’t think his words through and doesn’t think that Dimitri would take these words as an invitation. 

Which is exactly what Dimitri does. He rises off the floor and crawls into bed beside Felix, big and warm and soft and distressingly close. 

“Sleep well, Felix.” 

Felix does not sleep.  
  
  
  
  
  
Felix learns how to cook. Or tries to.

He isn’t any good at it and he knows it because he has to eat his own damn cooking. He finds an old bottle of spice and applies it liberally until he can’t taste anything else, and at least that seems to help.

Dimitri, who cheerfully informs him that he has no sense of taste, isn’t bothered by Felix’s cooking. It means that he’s eating more. He’s starting to fill out, regaining muscle and fat alike.

It’s for this reason, and this reason alone, that when they are sitting in front of the fireplace together one night, Felix unthinkingly reaches out and rests his hand on Dimitri’s chest. 

“Felix?”

These days, Dimitri has the body of a man, the head of a boar, and his fur is no longer as coarse as before. It’s soft enough to be pleasant to the touch. Dimitri has taken to wearing the pants Felix has clumsily mended, but no shirt. His chest is broad and soft and Felix is quietly losing his mind over the fact that he cannot stop touching.

“I had self-control before I came here,” he says to the fireplace. “So much self-control. Sylvain called me repressed. You remember Sylvain, don’t you? And Ingrid? They believed in you more than I could and yet—I’m the one here. Touching your chest.” 

“I remember them,” Dimitri says softly. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re the one here. Touching my chest.” 

Felix snorts quietly then and turns to him, taking in Dimitri’s snout and tusks. “So. How the fuck do I kiss you.”  
  
  
  
  
  
Carefully.

That’s the answer to how to kiss a boar, Felix learns. He learns to avoid Dimitri’s tusks. He climbs into Dimitri’s lap and holds his head still, kissing his snout, kissing his head, kissing anything he can reach until Dimitri’s hands are on his sides, pulling him closer. Felix straddles one of Dimitri’s thick thighs and grinds down, burying his face into Dimitri’s soft fur and gasping. 

“Felix—” 

“I want this,” Felix tells Dimitri, before he can ask. “Give me.” 

When Dimitri pushes Felix to the floor, he’s almost entirely a boar again. 

“Fuck,” Felix groans, squeezing his eyes shut.

Dimitri thinks it’s a bad _fuck_. “I—I am sorry, Felix. I cannot control—” 

“It’s fine,” Felix cuts in, palming at his own cock through his trousers. He’s embarrassingly hard. “It’s still you. It’s fine.”  
  
  
  
  
  
Felix has three fingers inside himself, slick with oil he’s stolen out of his own kitchen supplies, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat as he stretches himself open.

Dimitri stands over him and Felix takes one look between his legs and swears shakily.

“What the fuck is that? That’s not what dicks are meant to look like.” 

Dimitri’s is in the shape of a corkscrew and it’s hot to the touch. Felix gets on his hands and knees, reaching behind him and working the length into him a little at a time until Dimitri is pressed up against his back and he feels ridiculously, pleasantly full. 

“It’s still me,” Dimitri says softly, nuzzling against Felix. “It’s fine, isn’t it?”

“Shut up,” Felix gasps out as Dimitri thrusts into him. 

“I fear this will be over far too soon,” Dimitri confesses, which doesn’t turn out to be true at all. 

Felix loses track of how long he spends with Dimitri mounting him, pumping into him until he’s done. The floor is a mess. They’ll need a new rug. Dimitri looks incredibly pleased with himself as he settles onto the floor and pulls Felix into his arms. 

“ _Arms_.” Felix would sit bolt upright if he had the strength to do anything but melt into Dimitri’s arms. “You’re… you’re back.” 

Dimitri blinks down at himself, at his skin and his human limbs and mildly says, “Oh.” 

“Did you break the curse?” 

Dimitri smiles. “I think you did.” 

“Me?” 

“I needed someone to love me at my worst.” Dimitri rests their heads together. “I think you just did that.”

“You’ve always been the worst and I’ve always loved you,” Felix retorts with a scowl. “All I did now was take your weird boar dick.”

“Oh,” Dimitri says, in that soft way he always does when he becomes introspective.

“Dimitri,” Felix says, cupping his cheek. “Maybe you just had to believe it. Anyway, the curse is broken now. That’s all that matters.” 

“Hm.” Dimitri takes Felix’s hand in his, guiding it between his legs. “I think this matters too.” 

“That’s still much bigger than it has any right to be,” Felix says, but finds the strength to settle himself in Dimitri’s lap all the same. “But you’re right. It _does_ matter.”


End file.
